


The Definition of Happiness

by PenguinofProse



Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [12]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bellamy on Bardo, Disciple Bellamy, F/M, Fixing S7, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Smut, Smut, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: S7 fix it. Bellamy explores the definition of happiness. Angst with a fluffy ending.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927285
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	The Definition of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I keep writing 7.13 fix its. What can you do? I suppose technically this is more of a 7.12 fix it. We've got Bellamy left on Bardo to begin with. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing. Happy reading!
> 
> Content note: brainwashing and low self esteem.

Bellamy is not surprised to be left behind on Bardo. He's disappointed, sure, but not _surprised_. It's just further proof of what he was already coming to realise – that he's less than useless, now. That he is failing both his old friends and his new faith.

It's an issue he's been wrestling with since he got home from Etherea, a problem he's encountered every time he sees the coldness in his Shepherd's eyes or the tears on Clarke's face.

He just doesn't know what to do.

That's why he lies here and does _nothing_. He lies, fully clothed, on the bed he has been allocated in the shiny bedroom he has been given. It's not as if anyone has assigned him another task, is it? He supposes that sooner or later he'll be expected to join the rest of the Disciples for training or something. But for now he's just been told to rest and recover from his ordeal on Etherea.

Meanwhile his Shepherd and a delegation of his old friends have gone to Sanctum without him, he understands. If that's even the truth. Neither side seems to trust him enough to tell him anything useful.

He wonders what to do. Should he read a book? He's not sure he can concentrate that well. Should he -

He sits up, abruptly, as a Conductor he barely recognises bursts into his room.

"Disciple Blake. There's been a problem. The stone – the stone is broken." She says, frantic.

"What do you mean – _broken_?" He asks. How can a damn anomaly stone be _broken_?

"It's offline. We don't know why. We can't get it back. And the Shepherd went through it with the strangers and now – what if he's stranded?"

Bellamy swings his legs out of bed. Is this his problem? He supposes so. It's clearly _a_ problem, and this woman is clearly expecting him to do something about it. But he's struggling to get his head round it, honestly. His Shepherd can't be stranded on Sanctum. That's simply not a thing that can happen.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know." She says, hands thrown wide in despair. "I don't know. It's only the stone room team that know so far. And I came to fetch you because – because I'm the only Conductor on Bardo today. With Anders dead and the others with the Shepherd -"

"I understand." Bellamy cuts her off, calm as he can. He can see, now, why this is a crisis, if all the leadership of Bardo are dead or off-world.

He should step up and serve his Shepherd.

"I knew you would." She sighs, relieved. "We all heard what happened to you on Etherea. I knew you would know what to do. The light of the Shepherd chose you for a reason." She says fervently.

_The light of the Shepherd chose him for a reason._

Isn't that what he told himself, as he jumped off that cliff into the green unknown? Isn't that what he told himself, when he looked Clarke in the eyes and watched her weep at his new faith?

He supposes he had better follow this scared woman to the stone room.

…...

The scared woman is called Hayden, it turns out. She seems rather competent, now she's starting to get over her shock. She explains that she's the newest of the Conductors and that's why she was left to hold the fort while everyone of importance went with Cadogan to Sanctum.

That seems like a poor strategy, on reflection, Bellamy thinks. Not that he would criticise the wisdom of his Shepherd, of course. He understands why all the highest ranking Disciples were taken for the crucial task of fetching the flame. No one was expecting anything like this to happen.

But it has happened, now, and so they are in trouble.

The stone room is in uproar, when Bellamy and Hayden arrive. There are members of the cipher team running everywhere, squinting frantically at the stone which has crashed, useless, to the ground.

It's made quite a dent in the floor, Bellamy notes in passing. Between that and the scorch marks from the explosion he was caught up in when he first arrived here, the stone room is looking rather less pristine than it used to.

But he supposes they have more important things to worry about than décor, in this moment.

"Listen up, everyone." He calls instinctively, voice pitched to carry over the frantic huddle of humanity.

Then he realises what he's done.

He gulps in a breath. This is what he does, isn't it? This is what he's been doing since the moment he left the Ark – calming terrified crowds with his confident words and his resilient humour.

He just wishes he felt more confident and resilient, in this moment.

He gathers his thoughts. _Just think of the hundred_. No, that hurts. They're all dead, or angry with him – or even _both_.

He starts at the beginning. "I know you're scared. I know you've never been in a situation like this before. But that's OK. We'll work together, and we'll keep the faith, and we'll figure it out."

A few nods. A few shoulders relax, just a little.

"I know you're all good, brave people. I know that because you're Disciples. You've been training all your lives to face any challenge that comes your way. I know you were expecting a war, not a stone offline. But you can face this, too. In the light of the Shepherd, we will find a way."

More nodding. Everyone in the room is turning to look at him, now.

"Let's make a plan." He says, and he wishes even as he says the words that Clarke was here, now. That's how this used to work, on Earth, he seems to remember. He would make an inspirational speech, get the crowd listening. She would follow up by stepping forward with an idea that was actually workable.

Looks like he's going to have to cover for her, this time.

"I'm Bellamy Blake. _Disciple_ Blake." He introduces himself to the room. "I'm new here, but some of you might have heard of what happened to me on Etherea. Let's go around the group and talk about who we are, what skills we can offer to tackle this problem. That's the best place to start." He concludes, with as much confidence as he can muster.

Hayden goes first. She explains that she's a Conductor, and she knows all the codes, but she cannot make the usual codes work on this occasion. She's followed by the man who heads the cipher team – Cameron – who proclaims that he loves solving problems, and that in the light of the Shepherd he's sure they will find the inspiration to put this right.

They keep moving round the room. Half a dozen members of the cipher team, a handful of guards who have spent almost every waking hour of their lives guarding this room.

They can do this, Bellamy decides – or at least, he _hopes_ they can. He once kept a bunch of teenagers alive with no help but a medical apprentice and a half-trained engineer, surviving on sheer nerve.

Surely a group of experts, highly knowledgeable about the anomaly stone, can find a way to get it back online?

…...

They can't get it back online that week, it turns out.

Bellamy tries not to let that bother him. A week is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Seven days. It's not at all alarming that they haven't managed to fix a major problem in that time. His sense of scale is just out of kilter because he has got used to living a life where everything happens in a mad rush – losing Clarke and getting her back from the dead again within a matter of days, for example.

But he can be patient, now. He lasted months on Etherea. He can deal with the odd week of suspense.

The other residents of Bardo are getting restless, though. He's formed a sort of informal council with Cameron and Hayden, this week, and today Hayden has a suggestion to make.

"We should formalise this." She suggests, pointing between the three of them. "It's time to admit to the people that our Shepherd might be missing for some time. You should be interim leader, Disciple Blake."

Bellamy nods heavily. It's an honour – a rather _heavy_ honour – but it's one he was more or less expecting. The speech he made that first day has rather set the pattern for the days that have followed.

"You're right. It will quiet the rumours of disaster if people know we have a firm plan." Cameron agrees.

"It shouldn't just be us." Bellamy suggests now. "We should look for others who are senior figures in the community. Ms Haggerman from the school. Shoanna from intelligence. Maybe someone from med bay?"

"Amelia." Hayden suggests right away. "She's been running med bay for a decade now."

Bellamy nods. But Cameron is frowning hard.

"What is it?" Bellamy prompts gently. He knows that, as a leader, it is important to make people feel that their voices are heard.

"This isn't how we do things on Bardo." He says quietly. "Pardon me, First Disciple Blake. I mean no disrespect. But you didn't grow up here. You don't know our ways. We don't lead by – by _committee_."

 _Yes we do_ , Bellamy thinks. That's what they're doing right now, the three of them. But apparently Cameron can accept this more easily because it is not so formal.

He swallows hard. He's First Disciple Blake now. He's the interim leader of Bardo. And he is determined to get this right, for the sake of all mankind.

"I have no intention of undermining the traditions of Bardo." Bellamy says smoothly. "What I'm suggesting is exactly how our Shepherd operates, isn't it? I'm just defining it differently. He stays in cryosleep and relies on his First Disciple. That First Disciple relies on Conductors and those Conductors rely on help from members of the guard and the cipher team. It's no different."

Cameron nods thoughtfully. Bellamy thanks his lucky stars that he was born with this talent for educating a dubious audience. He never expected to use it in quite this context, but if this is how he serves his Shepherd and brings him safely home, then that's just the way it is.

So that's it. That's the decision made. And so Bellamy Blake – a janitor from Factory Station – becomes the interim First Disciple of Bardo.

…...

Bellamy starts reading.

He's not sure what else to do, how else to help the desperate drive to get the stone back online. He's no codebreaker, no futuristic engineer. But he's always had more of a thing for words. And he figures that, if he reads _The Shepherd's Passage_ often enough, and delves into more of the religious literature of Bardo, he might find some kind of clue that can help him.

The problem is, what he reads doesn't make sense.

It's not that the words on the page don't hang together. It's that the message of _The Shepherd's Passage_ strikes him as total and utter _crap_.

He's annoyed with himself for that. He's a Disciple. He's the _First_ Disciple. The future of Bardo depends on the strength and light of his faith. He needs to save his Shepherd.

But this book is literally rubbish. He's _been_ to Etherea. He knows what it's like. He knows that it's an odd place, with supernatural phenomena he takes as signs of the truth of his faith. Yet there is absolutely no way that his Shepherd scaled that first big rockface by _praying_ his way up it. It's simply not plausible that he stayed warm through the power of _believing in himself_.

He knows his old friends and family think he's foolish for converting to this faith. But he's not so totally lost his wits as _this_. He believes in the light of the Shepherd because it saved him, and because that experience with his mother was real and life-changing. He believes, too, because he thinks transcendence sounds like a better idea than tribalism and the endless cycle of _us vs them_. But he's not about to abandon all common sense and believe every line of this totally incomprehensible work.

It leaves him with something of a problem.

He thinks about it longer, harder, more desperately. He remembers, now, that he did read _The Shepherd's Passage_ on Etherea, while Doucette was healing. He thought it was absurd then, too.

How did he get so totally lost along the way?

He tries changing it up. He reads some schoolbooks about the faith, then a small volume of some meditations written by the Shepherd.

And the more he reads, the more the clouds clear. The more he leaves the fog of Etherea behind. The more he realises that peace and warmth and light are lovely ideals, but that the teachings of his Shepherd are not worth the paper they're written on.

…...

He keeps his doubts quiet from Cameron and Hayden and the rest of his council. Of course he does – this is not his first rodeo. He's no stranger to the discretion and occasional deviousness needed for politics.

There's no point saying anything while he's still figuring it out, anyway. He still wants peace and light and warmth. He thinks that means he still wants transcendence. He hasn't decided, yet, whether he can want transcendence and also think that the Shepherd is a charlatan.

That's why he tries to stay encouraging and above suspicion when he checks in with the stone room team.

"How's it going? Any news?" He asks Cameron, smiling as warmly as he can manage. It's been months, now, and he knows that their smiles are all growing strained.

"Loretta thought she had something earlier. A tone when she touched one of the symbols. But Marius thinks it was just the ventilation system whirring."

Bellamy nods. "That's OK. It's to be expected that a problem like this will take time. The Disciples have been keeping the faith for generations. We can be patient now, too."

Cameron makes an agreeing noise. But Bellamy cannot help but feel he is agreeing because he knows he is supposed to, rather than because he actually believes Bellamy speaks the truth.

…...

The last straw that causes Bellamy to utterly abandon the Shepherd's teachings?

It's a sex dream about Clarke. _Of course_ it's a sex dream about Clarke. The best friend, the one who got away, the woman who's stuck his soul like a precious thorn. And he's been trying so hard not to think about her, in recent months. He's had plenty of other things to think about – the stone crisis, leadership, questioning his faith.

But all that time, apparently, his subconscious has still been utterly devoted to her.

He ought to be having sex dreams about Echo instead, perhaps. He was dating Echo up until he got back from Etherea, technically. He thinks they broke up that day before she went away with the others, and he was left here, and the stone failed. He's more or less sure they did. That wretched conversation seemed more like a break up than anything else, he believes.

But he's not surprised to be dreaming of Clarke instead. That's the story of his life, isn't it? That she will always be first in his heart even when his head is preoccupied.

It wasn't even a very wild sex dream, as sex dreams go. Just a bit of cuddling, some soft kisses, a burning pleasure in his groin. It was pretty intense, he supposes, for how simple it was.

But it has him admitting defeat. If he doesn't agree with the writings he has read, if he's still evidently obsessed with a woman he hasn't seen for months, then this faith is clearly not for him.

And the more he thinks about it, he only ever wanted transcendence because he associated that with the moving experience of seeing his mother again. He doesn't see why the two should have to go hand-in-hand. He can still miss his mother, can still be moved by that experience, without deciding the human race should abandon love and turn to light.

If anything, wasn't it love for his mother that landed him here?

He's not sure what he's left with, now. He's lying in his bed, sweaty and embarrassed, the leader of his people yet opposed to their faith. He's got no friends here, and the friends he used to have are now trapped on the other side of that stone along with the leader of the cult he has abandoned.

All he's left with, it seems, is the loneliness of missing Clarke.

…...

He starts small.

"How are you doing this morning, Ms Haggerman?" He still cannot bring himself to call her Mary, and they've been working together six months now.

"I'm well, First Disciple Blake."

Well, then. Apparently the stilted formality goes both ways.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something." He says, trying for a smile and a little more warmth. "I wonder if I might come to give a talk to the children. First Disciple Anders used to do that occasionally, didn't he?"

"He did. We'd be honoured, sir."

No. That's too far. He's not _sir_. He's just a scared boy who misses his mum and his friends, he fears sometimes.

"Please, call me Bellamy. Or Blake if you prefer."

She nods. "Of course. Mr Blake. The children would be thrilled to have a visit from you."

That's better than nothing, he figures. That's some small measure of progress. And in his experience, when you're trying to win hearts and minds, the children are the best place to start.

…...

Bellamy makes some changes in Bardo, as months stretch out to years with still no sign of the stone being repaired. They're small changes, inspected on an individual level. He's careful on that front.

But they add up to something of a paradigm shift.

He loves visiting the school. He tells them a lot of tales from his early life as well as from Etherea, from the Romans and Sanctum and everything in between. The moral of those stories? Yes, the headline is that working together is a good thing. He knows that the ethos of Bardo revolves around dedicated teamwork. But he chooses to focus on working together for love of the rest of the team, not out of obligation or duty.

He adapts the Disciples' training programme somewhat, too. He repurposes the simulators – instead of fear simulations, now, they learn through taking on simulated challenges as a team. Any challenge is marked as a fail if a Disciple dies, even though it's not real, of course. But Bellamy has had enough of self-sacrifice to last a lifetime, and he doesn't want to train these troops to perpetuate that toxic cycle. He is sick and tired of watching people give up their lives for the sake of a cause and call it glorious.

In his experience, such losses are only incredibly sad.

He's happy with his progress – or rather, with the progress _his people_ have made. He's happy with their newfound loyalty to _each other_ rather than to some abstract higher cause.

He's reclaiming _for all mankind_ , not to mean that individuals are unimportant, but to mean that all individuals are _equally_ important – whether they were born on Bardo or worlds away beyond the stars.

…...

The stone has been broken four years when there's an unwelcome revelation.

Bellamy gets a message saying that Cameron and Hayden want to see him urgently in the stone room, so he heads there to figure out what's going on. He doesn't jog down the hallways, not quite. He walks with purpose, because he's a well-respected leader round here.

He wonders how long that will last. If and when the anomaly opens up again, presumably Cadogan will come back and take over. Will Bellamy oppose him? He thinks he probably would, if it came to it, now he has seen a better way. Will _Clarke_ oppose him?

It hurts too much to think about that.

He arrives in the stone room to find Cameron pacing nervously and Hayden wringing her hands.

"What's going on?" He asks, calm as he can manage.

"The connection was severed from the other side." Hayden announced. "We're sure of it. We've been working on tracing the energy signature and – and that's where it led us."

He nods. He doesn't know anything about the energy signatures of anomaly stones, as it happens. But he does know a thing or two about inspiring people in a crisis.

"OK. What does that mean for us? Could we still reopen it from this side?"

"We're not sure." Cameron says, in a tone that strongly suggests they cannot, but he is determined to try all the same.

"We'll keep working on it." Hayden says, patting Cameron bracingly on the back. "We need to have courage and keep moving forward together."

Bellamy gives her an encouraging smile. He's proud of her – that's the kind of mindset he is looking for, from his people. To be comforting and motivating each other, to place a strong work ethic at the heart of all they do.

It's a move away from thinking of love as either selfish or selfless to something more genuinely altruistic. The kind of love he and Clarke used to show each other, he thinks, when they were urging each other on to do their very best as the world was ending.

That's what matters. Loving generously, doing better.

Being the man Clarke would want him to be.

…...

It's the stupidest thing, but Bellamy feels himself struggling more after the news about the stone being disconnected from the other side. He can see that Cameron and Hayden think this is bad news. He's rather honed his people skills, over the years.

Perhaps he ought to be relieved, he wonders. If the stone cannot be reconnected, then Cadogan cannot return. Bellamy will not have to wrestle with the impossible question of how to perform a bloodless coup to keep Cadogan from steering everyone back to war and transcendence.

But he's lonely, damn it. He's missing his sister and his ex-girlfriend and his... _Clarke_.

He wonders if this is how she felt, stranded on Earth with Madi all those years. No, that's not a fair comparison. He has the company of people, and he's become friends with his councillors even if they do not quite feel like his family. After a lifetime spurning love, he finds that they are not warm or easy to get close to.

So maybe this is more like Octavia's experience of ruling the bunker, he wonders. She was surrounded by people yet lonely all the same, as far as he can tell. Maybe he understands her troubles rather better, now. He understands the pressure of ruling alone in strange times.

He thinks perhaps the answer is to make Bardo a warmer place. And now he comes to think of it, that would surely help these people to choose peace rather than transcendence, too. He should encourage them to love, and to find happiness in their own time and place. To be at peace within these walls rather than seeking more.

That's where Mount Weather went wrong, he recalls. The inhabitants got greedy and dissatisfied. They wanted to go above ground. So he supposes what he has to do is teach his people how to be happy here in this bunker.

He'll start with Levitt. He'll go see him tomorrow. He was sweet on Octavia, Bellamy seems to remember. That's a promising sign.

He's not going to see Levitt tonight, though. In this moment, there is something else he desperately wants to do first. Something that he hopes might keep him sane, might help him to claim a little makeshift happiness of his own in this unhappy situation.

He takes a sheet of paper and writes a letter to Clarke.

…...

He goes to see Levitt the following day. Levitt looks rather surprised to be receiving a visit from the First Disciple, but welcomes him in all the same.

Interesting, Bellamy thinks, how he no longer thinks of himself as the _interim_ First Disciple. He seems to have decided he's here to stay. Is that how tyranny starts out? Should he be worried?

There are other things on his list more worth worrying about first, he decides.

"Levitt. Thanks for your time. I wondered if you could tell me a bit about what you do in your free time?" Bellamy says, tone level.

Levitt frowns. "Free time?"

"Yes. Do you enjoy reading?"

"I read from the works of the Shepherd." Levitt says cautiously. Bellamy is fairly certain it's a lie.

He swallows, takes a deep breath. "You don't need to lie to me, Levitt. I'm interested in making Bardo a... warmer place. The Disciples have been training in preparation for the last war for generations, but I worry that they've forgotten how to be happy here and now."

Levitt nods. "We don't ask questions like this – about _fun_. And we don't talk about happiness. You -"

"I wasn't born here. I know." Bellamy frowns. "But please trust me when I say I am striving for the best for all mankind."

Levitt nods again, more eagerly. "I know. I do trust you. You're – you're Octavia's big brother."

"You remember her, then?"

"Yes." He says simply.

Bellamy tries a new tactic. "Are you hoping to see her again, when we get the stone back online?"

Levitt nods again. "Yes. Definitely. If – if she still wants to see me. But – friendships and... _relationships_ are not encouraged on Bardo."

"Perhaps they should be." Bellamy says mildly. "Friendship is a very powerful force. I think encouraging more friendships could make us stronger than ever. If I was looking for a way to encourage more social ties – but without overturning the traditions of Bardo – where would you suggest I start?" He asks outright.

"With meals." Levitt says at once. "People don't sit and chat together while they eat. They eat for the nutrition, not for the atmosphere in the dining hall. Encourage people to be sociable. Have some nights of the week where people are timetabled to eat with the rest of their work team, some where they eat with the people they live near."

"Some for people who like reading the works of the Shepherd, some for people who enjoy doing extra training in their free time?" Bellamy dares to suggest.

Levitt is less sure of that. "Perhaps."

Bellamy starts with inviting people to eat with their work colleagues, three days later. Even in a society as robotic as Bardo, he likes to think that everyone who has ended up working in med bay must feel some common calling.

…...

Bellamy writes a lot of letters to Clarke, as the years pass by. More and more with each month, in fact. Perhaps his addiction to this odd habit is growing worse.

Or perhaps he's just growing warmer, as the atmosphere around him becomes more friendly. Maybe he's finally remembering how to leave the coldness of Etherea behind him once and for all.

The letters vary a lot. Sometimes he goes for something short and simple and heartfelt. _I miss you_ or _may we meet again_. Other times he writes reams and reams about the business of his day, just to be able to feel like he's talking to her. To get a sense that he's sharing his life with her as he always wished he could do.

Often he compares his situation now with her survival on Earth, or his sister in the bunker, or Echo on Skyring. He doesn't understand what the universe has against him and his loved ones, sometimes. Is it karma? He hates to consider that possibility. But all he knows is that he's sick and tired of spending so much time away from his family, and he feels deep and almost _painful_ empathy with them for the similar experiences they've gone through.

Maybe they'll be able to bond over this, one day. Maybe they'll be able to sit around a fire, all four of them, and share stories.

He'll be old, when that happens. He tries not to think about it too hard. But with time dilation, he could easily be elderly if ever they get the stone back online. He could even be dead by the time they get through, he fears.

For all he knows, they're already dead now, on the other side of that bridge.

That's a dangerous thought. He can't afford to get too low, too upset, too cold and detached like he was on Etherea.

So it is that he forces himself to pick up a pen and write his sadness in yet another letter to Clarke.

…...

Bellamy knows something is up when Hayden asks to speak to him. He presumes it's about the stone, because of course he does. Their collective life has revolved around that defunct chunk of rock for over five years, now.

But it turns out she has something rather more personal on her mind.

"Could you tell me more about the society you grew up in, Blake?"

He frowns on reflex. He still hates the way no one in this place will call him Bellamy.

"Sure. What do you want to know?" He figures this is a chance for some of that social chatting he has been trying to encourage at meals.

"Whatever you want to share." She says with a shrug.

He's not sure where to start. He offers a few vague comments about their different education system, the religious ceremonies Vera Kane used to oversee, the merging of grounder and sky cultures on Earth.

"And is it true that you had _marriage_?" Hayden asks.

Aha. So this is what she really wanted to talk about.

"Yes. Marriage is an old tradition from Earth. The Shepherd was married once." Bellamy points out.

"Yeah. What's it like? Were you ever married?"

He frowns. "I was never married. But it's – it's a good thing, I think. Not selfish. It's about working together and supporting each other. Being happier together than you were apart." He tries not to think of Clarke as he says the words.

And most of all? Most of all he tries not to cry.

"You wanted to get married." Hayden concludes, voice soft.

Bellamy jumps slightly. "I – I – it didn't work out." He tries, somewhat disorientated by the turn the conversation has taken.

"I'm sorry for that, Bellamy."

He smiles a little. _Bellamy_. That's his actual name, that his actual friends used to call him.

"That's – that's kind of why I wanted to speak to you." She takes a deep breath. "I don't want it not to work out. I don't want to go the rest of my life wondering. And Cameron thinks we shouldn't say anything – you know what he's like. The old rules are important to him. But I wanted to ask you whether it would be OK if – if we got together. If maybe we get married one day."

"You and Cameron?" He repeats, grinning. How has he not noticed this? It must have been happening right under his nose.

"Yes. If – if you approve."

"Of course I approve. It's the best news I've heard all week."

It's also the opposite of transcendence, of course. It's the opposite of selfish love and the light of the Shepherd.

But apparently neither of them is inclined to mention that.

…...

Bellamy writes Clarke a particularly long letter on day 2199. Then he weeps for a while, then takes a shower, then goes to eat supper with Cameron and Hayden.

They may not be Clarke. They're not Octavia or Echo, either.

But they're family to him, now.

…...

It starts out as a morning like any other. Bellamy is sitting in his office – or the _First Disciple's_ office. He really ought to remember he's only doing this job temporarily. He's drinking a cup of lukewarm water and reading the memoirs of the only woman ever to hold the title of First Disciple. It's not an interesting way to spend a morning, in all honesty.

Then Loretta bursts into the room without knocking, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. Bellamy rather wonders what's happened. Has Shoana just proposed? Are they seeking his blessing? No, that seems unlikely. He only noticed they were together a couple of months ago.

"The stone is up." Loretta tells him through a gasp. "It's working. It's connected."

He doesn't waste another second. All at once he's sprinting desperately down the halls, wondering too late why he didn't move his office closer to the throne room at any point in the last seven years. That would have been a smart move, he thinks.

It's what Clarke would have done.

No. He can't allow himself to think of Clarke. Not here and now, not like this. Not when he's seconds away from learning whether she's dead in a ditch and whether he's got a Cadogan problem to face.

He's never run so fast in his life, he's pretty sure. His lungs are burning, feet slapping against the soles of his stupid decorative white shoes. He rounds the last corner, stumbles through the open door of the stone room.

And then he sees Clarke walking out of a cloud of green.

He dives towards her. There's simply no other word for the desperate way he throws himself at her, with at least as much faith and force as he leapt from that cliff on Etherea. He's got his arms around her, now, his face pressed into her neck and he's breathing in the much-missed scent of her even as he gasps for breath.

He tries to stop panting, tries to take in the moment. Clarke's not hugging him back the way she used to, he notices at once.

He panics, pulls back. Is she put off by how old he looks, now? She looks just the same as when he last saw her. Or is it just the lingering suspicion left behind by what he did here seven years ago? He must bear in mind that it can't have been more than a few days for her.

Others are arriving, now. His sister is striding out of the anomaly, Echo and Raven and Hope and Gabriel, too.

"You're here." Bellamy gasps, still stunned and breathless. "I can't believe you're really here."

"We're here." Clarke confirms.

He frowns. He can't read her tone, and that hurts. Is she being hostile or only standoffish? Or perhaps less than that – simply _cautious_?

He tries not to let it bother him. He reaches out to hug his sister instead, and she hugs him back, more or less. He turns to Echo, and another slightly brisk embrace.

He swallows hard. He understands this. Of course he does. Last thing they knew, he was on the other side of a war. But it's been seven long years for him, and he's found his way back from Etherea once and for all.

"Cadogan's dead." Clarke says, eyes searching his face carefully.

He nods. He wants to hug her again for that. But he can't look too joyful when so many of his faithful people are in the room. He doesn't quite know how to proceed.

Hayden helps him out. Of course she does – that's Hayden. The first friend he made in this place that didn't believe in friendship. She steps up, hand outstretched towards Clarke.

"Ms Griffin. Welcome to Bardo. Thank you for telling us that news. I know we will all mourn the Shepherd's passing, but we can agree that Bellamy is a fine leader."

Clarke frowns deeper than ever.

"I've been acting as interim First Disciple while the stone was offline." He swallows hard. "I've been trying to... do the right thing for Bardo."

"He's been great." Hayden enthuses. "He's led us into a more modern approach to our faith, you know? We can get married now and everything."

Clarke's eyes widen. "Married? You two are – are _married_?"

"Not to each other." Hayden says, laughing. "Here. Cameron, come and introduce yourself." She waves him over.

That breaks the ice, somewhat. Cameron steps forward, a round of introductions follows. And Bellamy's old friends seem to take the hint that Bardo is a little different, these days. Clarke's eyes are slightly softer. Octavia even smiles at him once. Echo hangs back, close to Hope, and Bellamy wonders whether that observation is noteworthy.

He stops wondering that, very abruptly, when Clarke sidles up to him in the crowd of people making their introductions and asks him a question under her breath.

"How long was it for you?"

"Seven years. Had to beat your six, didn't I?" He gives a hollow chuckle.

He's surprised to hear her joining in. It's a rather stiff sort of a laugh, but he figures it's better than nothing.

That's what gives him the courage to prolong the conversation. "How did Cadogan die?"

"Indra put a bullet in his brain."

"Good for her."

"You're not angry he's dead?" Clarke asks, turning to him with a sharp look.

"No. I – I've had a lot of time to think, these last seven years. A lot has changed around here while I've been First Disciple. We don't want a last war any more."

"It sounds like we've got a lot of catching up to do." She says, tone level.

He nods eagerly. Probably _too_ eagerly – more like desperately. "Yeah. I'm looking forward to that. How long was it for you?"

"Five days." She sighs. "Longest five days of my life. None of your people are coming back, Bellamy. I won't say I'm sorry – they were threatening Madi."

He takes a deep breath. "I get that. And some of my people _did_ come back. You're my people, Clarke. Still. You and O and Echo and Raven and all of you, as well as the people here. You're _all_ my people."

"For all mankind." She says, sour.

"That doesn't mean what it used to mean. I've been trying to change things here, Clarke." He's on the verge of tears, now, desperate to convince her he's still the man she used to claim as her best friend. "I promise. For all mankind is _actually_ for everyone, now. For happiness. For doing better."

She looks up at him, considering, gives a short nod. "That sounds great. I'm sorry, this is a lot to process. Five days ago you were watching them put me in MCAP. Five days before that you were saving my life."

"I get that. Take your time." He says softly. "It's been a long seven years for me and I've spent a lot of it worrying about whether you could ever forgive me."

"Of course I will." She says firmly. "That's what I do. But – I guess I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment."

He wants to offer to help her with that. He would have done, back before Praimfaya. That's what they used to do for each other. But he fears that she doesn't want that from him, in this moment.

That's why he simply gives her a warm smile and sends Loretta to fetch Levitt. He has a feeling Octavia might want to see him.

…...

It's a good day, objectively speaking. Bellamy learns more about what has happened in Sanctum, that all his old friends are safe and well. Murphy took a bullet to the leg, apparently, but is recovering already. He learns, too, that it was actually Raven who shut down the stone and got it online again – a deliberate tactic to ensure Cadogan couldn't call for backup.

There's some irony to that, Bellamy thinks. The new Bardo he has shaped, these last seven years, would not have run to help Cadogan start a war anyway.

He learns that Echo and Hope are together now, and he's happy about that. He supposes he must have been right – that last conversation on Bardo really was a breakup. He's perhaps a little offended, in a wry sort of way, that Echo moved on so fast.

But it wasn't fast at all, was it? She lived five years on Skyring with Hope, was probably at least half in love with her before the breakup. He really does hate losing all this time in his loved ones' lives.

The best thing about the day is, without doubt, the peace. No Disciple makes any attempt to attack the delegation from Sanctum. Sure, the conversations about repatriating the bodies of those killed in Sanctum are tough. But everyone holds true to the motto of Bardo – _for all mankind_. Truly, his people are seeking the best for the whole human race and trying to keep making friends.

So, yes, it is a good day. Everyone is alive, apart from the dead who are respectfully mourned, and will not be joined by more pointless sacrifices any time soon.

But Bellamy is disappointed all the same. He's not surprised, but he is disappointed. However much he always knew Clarke would be cautious if ever they were to meet again, however much his head knows this is only to be expected, his heart hurts all the same.

He wrote her years worth of letters. And all she has for him is the occasional stiff smile. Maybe that's what he deserves, after moving on from her while she called him every day.

…...

He's reached a resolution by supper time. He's just going to make a point of seeking Clarke out and spending time with her and fixing their friendship. He's not going to ask her for anything more than that – he knows he doesn't deserve her love, after all the times he has betrayed her. And apart from anything else, he's a lot older now than he was when she last saw him. That makes him feel uncomfortable, sort of outdated and _stale_ , no longer the young man she used to laugh with at the dropship.

So it is that he sits down to his meal with a more or less positive outlook. He has Hayden and Cameron opposite him, Clarke and Octavia to his right and left, Echo and Raven along the table. Life is good.

He still has no idea what happens next, whether Clarke will head back to Sanctum and leave him here to grow old without her. But he's determined not to focus on that.

He turns to her, determined, ready to invite her to talk when they've finished eating. He takes a deep breath, opens his lips.

She beats him to it.

"Can we maybe spend some time catching up after this?" She asks softly. "I'm sorry, I know you must be really busy now you're running this place. But I feel like we've spent the whole day writing peace treaties and I just want to know how you _are_ _._ " She concludes, a vulnerability to her voice that shoots right to his heart.

"Yeah. Definitely. I was about to ask you the exact same thing." He says, trying to laugh but not quite managing it.

She grins. "Great minds think alike."

He smiles back at her. He never thought he'd live to hear her talk like that – here and safe and present, and even acting like they're still friends.

Supper passes slowly. His sister seems to have warmed up to him, at least, which is good. He wonders whether him inviting Levitt to join the reunion might have convinced her that he really is in favour of love again. And Clarke isn't cold, as such, and he thinks she really is looking forward to catching up. She's just quiet and unsteady in a way that he doesn't associate with her and doesn't like. But he remembers she seemed rather wobbly after her mother's death, too, and when they argued here seven years ago. Probably she's just had a tough week, he reasons.

At last, the meal is over, and they go their separate ways. He's invited the Sanctum delegation to stay here at least until they figure out what their next steps are, so he watches his sister and friends head to their rooms and tries not to fear that they will run out on him before morning.

He could swear he used to be less scared of loneliness, before Etherea.

"Your place or mine?" Clarke asks quietly.

He leads her to his office. He's not sure why – it's hardly the most personal space for a warm chat. But maybe he's trying to prove to her that he really has changed this place, now. That the First Disciple's study is not a place for dogma or fear or faith prioritised over kindness.

"You weren't lying when you said things had changed around here." Clarke observes, taking a seat on one side of his desk even as he sits in his usual chair.

"Yeah." He swallows. "I've been trying to make it a better place. Peace rather than transcendence. No last war."

She nods. "That's great. What – what changed your mind?"

He swallows. "I read a lot of the Shepherd's writings. Sorry – Cadogan. I found that they didn't make a lot of sense to me. I guess I gradually realised I'd found my faith because of the circumstances I was stuck in on Etherea rather than because it actually had meaning for me. Then I looked deeper and realised it was dangerous – I didn't want to justify more war and sacrifice." He takes a deep breath. "And – and I remembered how to love again."

She smiles, and it looks too careful. "That's great. Octavia will be really happy to hear that."

"I do love Octavia, and Echo, and I'm pleased she's happy with Hope. But – but I wasn't thinking of them when I remembered how to love."

She pauses, just for a moment. She gnaws slightly at her lip. And then -

"Who?" She asks, too abrupt, the word bursting out of her.

"Clarke -"

"Who was it?" She asks, barely louder than a whisper. "Who kept you going all these years?"

"Please don't ask me that." He begs.

"Why not?"

"Because you know the answer. You know I'm talking about _you._ " The confession bursts out of him, raw and honest. "But I know that's not fair on you. I'm too old for you, too broken. I've betrayed you too many times."

"I don't care."

"Clarke -"

"I don't _care_." She repeats, louder, firmer. "I know we've had our problems, and that's just life. I forgive you. And as for how _old_ you are?" She gives a laugh, tinged with hysteria. "It doesn't matter, Bellamy. I'm not asking for some fairy tale wedding. I don't need all the loose ends to tie up neatly. I just want to be happy as best as I can with _you_. I want us to make the best of this _mess_ our lives have been. It doesn't have to be perfect to be happiness."

He blinks at her, stunned. He's not used to seeing her so emotional, so unhinged. And he knows at least some of that is the grief of losing her mother and thinking she lost him, too. But in this moment, he understands that some of it is coming from just how much she cares about him.

He swallows, tries to decide where to start.

"I wrote you a bunch of letters." He mutters. "Took some tips from you on how to stay sane, I guess. You can read them if you want. They're not very interesting. Just a thousand different ways to say _I'm sorry_ and _I miss you_ and _I love you_."

"Sounds familiar." She says, with a small half-smile.

He cracks a slight grin in return. "What happens now?" He asks her. She always was the one with the plan.

"Now we finish catching up on news. Then we head back to your place and I try to decide whether it's appropriate to call you _daddy_ now you're so obsessed with the age gap between us." She teases, surprisingly bright.

He snorts out a laugh, even as he feels his robes grow tight around his groin. He should have known she'd say something like that. It's what they do, making each other laugh even in the midst of tough conversations.

He tries to recover from his surprised amusement and stunned arousal enough to make some coherent reply. "I didn't mean that." He murmurs. "That sounds perfect. But I'm worried about – about after."

"I get that. I know you can't leave your responsibilities here. But I don't want to spend another day apart from you. We'll figure something out."

"Do you think we could share Sanctum? Build another compound for the Disciples? I think that would definitely put an end to talk of transcendence, if they could live outside above ground together instead."

Clarke nods at once. "We can look into that. It's a good idea."

Silence falls. Bellamy thinks that's silly, because there are a thousand things he wants to say to Clarke in this moment. But perhaps that's the problem – too many things to say, and no idea where to start.

Best begin with the most important one, perhaps.

"I love you." He says easily.

"I love you too." She bounces right back at him, smiling and tearful, all at once.

He doesn't quite climb over the desk to embrace her, but it's pretty close. He's out of his chair, moving towards her, colliding with her as she tries to get to him, too. And then they're sharing the hug they should have shared this morning, squeezing each other tight and weeping into each other's shoulders.

He pulls away, after a moment, but only far enough to look down and meet her gaze.

"I don't want to push you too fast." He says carefully. "I know it's only been a few days for you. So – so would you be comfortable if I kissed you?"

She smiles a shaky smile. "I'm not _comfortable_ in general, right now. But I do want to kiss you. And I seem to remember I just invited myself into your bed."

He laughs. "Yeah. I get that. Just – let me know how you're doing, OK?"

She nods. And then, because she's Clarke Griffin, she takes matters into her own hands and reaches up to pull him into a resounding kiss.

It's not a perfect kiss. He's feeling too nervous, too tentative, too _apologetic_. She's more determined than relaxing and enjoying herself, he thinks. But rather than let that put him off, he thinks about what she said earlier. About how perfection and happiness are not synonymous. About making the best of their circumstances and living the life they have been handed.

So that's why he relaxes into it as best as he can. That's why he tangles his hand in Clarke's hair and pulls her closer still. He's always enjoyed holding onto her hair when he hugs her, and this is even better. He curls his other arm around her waist, feels her hands come up to roam his back.

This is good. This feels pretty natural and comfortable, actually. They're going to be OK.

He breaks away first.

"That OK?" He asks.

"Yeah. Great. Sorry – I guess I'm still getting comfortable."

"Don't be sorry." He swallows down tears that he thinks are happy – or maybe they're just the emotions of the day catching up with him. "I – I _loved_ that. Like you said, it doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be us, together."

"I like the sound of that." She says, grinning. "Would it be OK if we take a break to talk and catch up for a bit?"

He agrees to that right away. He sits himself back in his chair, hesitates over his next words.

"Do you want us to move the chairs closer?" He suggests. There's no couch in here, of course, because First Disciples have no need of couches.

She doesn't want them to move the chairs closer. He figures that out not because she says as much, but because she sits herself unceremoniously in his lap instead.

"Is this alright?" She checks.

He answers by squeezing her tight and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

They do actually sit and talk for a while, then. But it's the best kind of sitting and talking, with plenty of kisses and cuddles thrown in. Bellamy thinks it's just exactly what he needed, really. Some time to simply be at peace with Clarke and remember how to relax and enjoy her company.

He leaves it to her to suggest when she's ready to take the next step together and head for his bedroom. He figures that's the right thing to do. Sure, he's been celibate for the last seven years, and he's honestly not sure he can remember how to get off by any means besides his own right hand. But she's the one who's stressed and scared – or at least, who seemed pretty stressed and scared when she first arrived this morning. She appears to be doing rather better, now.

Only then it doesn't quite go to plan.

Story of his life, isn't it? Nothing ever turns out perfectly. Except this moment is perfect in its imperfections, he decides. He really is trying to embrace what Clarke said about snatching happiness however messy it might be. So when she turns and starts kissing him more purposefully, begins grinding down on his lap, he goes with it. He goes with it _eagerly_ , kissing her back hard and letting his hands start to explore her curves.

This is actually really appropriate, he finds a moment to decide between kisses. It is entirely fitting that they should make love for the first time in the First Disciple's office. It strikes him, in this moment, that there is no better way to bid farewell to Bardo's loveless past once and for all.

That's why he makes no attempt to move from his seat. Rather, he pulls back from the kiss to whisper in her ear.

"You want to try it right here? With you sitting on my lap and us holding each other?"

She nods, an eager sound of agreement deep in her throat.

He doesn't make her ask twice. He starts easing clothes out of the way, tosses his robe aside and tugs at her leggings. He supposes this is hardly the most practical way they could have chosen to try this for the first time. But he thinks that's not the most important thing, here. His priority is having the two of them able to hold each other tight and reassure each other with a firm touch.

Clarke wastes no time. As soon as his cock is free, and her pussy is bare, she's sinking down onto him with a sigh.

It takes him by surprise a little. He's not felt anything like this in years. And even though he knows he's experienced similar physical sensations before now, he's never made love with quite so much emotional baggage. It's _intense_ , but in the best possible way.

At risk of sounding pathetic, he thinks it feels a little like coming home.

He might tell Clarke that later. He thinks she'd like to hear it, probably find it sweet and affirming. But in this moment he's powerless to tell her anything except _more_ and _yeah_ and _love you_ as she starts riding the length of his cock.

She does as he asks. She rocks her hips quicker, grips her hands around his shoulders tighter.

"You doing alright?" He checks in with her in a breathy whisper.

"I'm good." She pants. "So good. Love holding you like this."

He takes her hint. He squeezes her a little firmer, presses more soft kisses to her neck. There will be other days, he hopes, for fucking into her fast from behind, for having her suck him off, for everything in between. But here and now he cannot imagine anything more suitable than clinging to each other and making something good of this outdated room in the heart of Bardo.

He can feel himself getting close, but he doesn't want to come first. He's always been a bit prone to worrying about that. He can hear that Clarke's close, too, and as far as he can tell she's been that way for a while. Honestly, he's sort of surprised that she hasn't come yet. She's been gasping for several minutes.

He tries to think with his brain and not his cock, just for a moment. Stress is bad for sex, right? If she's still upset and tense, she might be finding it difficult to come. That's why he was so worried about rushing into this, he seems to remember.

He's pleased they rushed into it, obviously, because this feels _awesome_. But he doesn't want Clarke to be having a tough time.

Is there something he can do to help?

"You're OK." He starts by murmuring to her, pressing a soft kiss by her ear. "I've got you. Tell me what you need, Clarke."

"Just you." She mutters, tight.

He huffs out a breathless laugh. "That's easy. I'm right here, Clarke. I've been yours for _years_ and now I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." It's a struggle to get the words out as he pants, but it's worth it. He can feel Clarke relaxing in his arms already.

He tries some more.

"I've got you. You're safe here. I'm with you."

She's moaning, now, long low sounds, as she sinks a little more deeply into his lap. She seems much more comfortable, but there's still something he figures she deserves to be reminded of.

"I love you. I love you so much." He murmurs.

She sighs, goes still. He feels her clenching around him, an unfamiliar sensation after all these years. He'd forgotten how good it feels to make love with someone flesh and blood, rather than his own wistful fantasies. It's enough to send him teetering closer to the edge.

Then Clarke starts moving again, whispering to him in turn.

"I love you." She tells him, in case that wasn't clear. "Love you. You take such good care of me. You can relax and let yourself feel good now."

It's not until he hears her words that he realises quite how much he needed her to say that. After so long worrying that he didn't deserve to have her love him, it means the world to hear her say she wants him to take care of his own happiness, in this moment.

He comes hard, but that's no surprise. More unexpected, perhaps, is the whining noise he hears himself make, the long sigh that follows. He's never heard himself sound so utterly wrecked before, and it's a little frightening.

Then again, loving Clarke has always been a somewhat scary experience.

They don't talk much, as they come down. They've spent the whole evening talking. And he for one has been craving this almost more than anything – just sitting still and quiet and simply _being_ together. He used to cherish moments like that, he seems to remember. He definitely recalls sitting or napping on her couch back before Praimfaya, a time or two.

"That was incredible." She says firmly, as if it's simply a fact.

He chuckles slightly into her hair. "You can say that again."

"It feels too good to be true." She muses. "A week ago I thought you were dead. Then it seemed like you were my enemy. And now – now _this_."

"It feels too good to be true to me, and I've had seven years to remember how to love you."

She nods against his neck.

"You want to head back to my place?" He offers softly. "We can just sleep. I'm not trying to rush you into round two."

"Sure. I'm really not in the mood for going back to separate beds after that." She teases. "Maybe we can figure out whether _daddy_ is an option next time round."

He laughs. He's half convinced she's joking, but honestly, he could be into that if she wanted him to be. He could be into _anything_ as long as it involves Clarke, he's pretty sure.

"We can try it if you like. But I'm not _that_ much older than you." He bounces back, without thinking too hard.

"There we go." She says, victorious, sitting back to look up into his face. "I knew it. I knew you'd forget all that nonsense about age gaps and betrayals as soon as you relaxed and let yourself be happy."

He sits there for a moment, stunned into speechlessness. He's known Clarke for centuries, yet they've spent barely months together. And all the same she knows him well enough to coax him out of his self-loathing like that.

"Thanks, Clarke." He swallows, presses a kiss to her cheek. "Honestly, call me what you like. It could be hot. But as long as you're staying right by my side I don't _care_ about the rest of it. We're going to make the best life we can with Madi and figure it out as we go along." He concludes. He's feeling rather confident, now he's got Clarke back in his life. She's always brought out the best in him.

She nods her agreement, tugs him to his feet. They fix their clothes and start wandering slowly towards his room.

He doesn't know what tomorrow holds. He doesn't know how things will turn out, with moving Bardo to Sanctum, and bringing some of the customs of Sanctum to Bardo. But he knows that he will do the best he can, and act with integrity, and above all he will hold onto hope.

He's had cause to think a lot about the definition of happiness, in his life. More than anything he has considered it over the last seven years, debating between truth and transcendence, real life or some gold-tinted oblivion. But here and now, he thinks he's figured it out.

His definition of happiness is simple. Happiness is living life hand-in-hand with Clarke.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
